


Fallen

by Red_Tigress



Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, I had to make a lot of shit up, I've been calling this my wolf-boy trash fic all week, Pre-Movie, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 18:01:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3390995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Tigress/pseuds/Red_Tigress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caine's court martial.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fallen

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god, where do I even BEGIN?!?! I have been calling this my trash fic all week, haha, and now I get to share this trash with you guys. Thanks to the anons at the JA dreamwidth for helping me out with WHAT LITTLE KNOWLEDGE WE ALL POSSES about the canon in this glorious piece of space trash we have fallen in love with. I don't even...this is the most incoherent author's note I've ever written. If you're one of my regular readers who accidentally clicked on this thinking it'd be ANYTHING else, I'm sorry, but you should probably just see JA, and then you can read this. JA fandom, I salute you.

There was a coldness seeping through his bare chest and into his bones. Unconsciously, he moved to wrap his arms or his wings tighter around himself, but something jerked against his wrists. Something hard and unforgiving. Blearily, he opened his eyes.

 

Dark blue steel of a cell surrounded him. He moved his wrist again in order to push himself to his feet, but the movement was halted once again. He twisted onto his side sluggishly, trying to get a look at his wrists, and why they were stuck behind him.

 

No, not stuck. Bound.

 

The golden cuffs gleamed in contrast to the blue floor, and with a start, he also realized his wings were bounded in a harness against his back. He could feel the straps rubbing the feathers the wrong way, irritating and slightly painful.

 

He sucked in a sharp breath, and only then did he realize something was pressed against his face. His warm breaths bounced back to him, making the inside of whatever it was wet with condensation. A mask, he realized as he became aware of the bindings going around the back of his head.

 

They’d muzzled him. Like a rabid dog.

 

Rage. Pain. Blood.

 

Caine Wise slammed against the wall of his cell, thoughts whirling in a panic. The faint coppery tang of blood in the back sat in the back of his throat like an admission of guilt for a crime he had no memory of committing. He snapped his head side to side, nostrils flaring, trying to pick up a scent, a sound, anything to tell him what happened.

 

But being jailed and bound, blood still on his breath, he had a pretty terrifying idea of what might have passed.

 

But all he could remember was a vision of red.

 

He hunched in the corner, back to the wall, trying in vain to wrap his wings around himself. They’d take them. His wings and the Legion were all he had. They were his freedom, his status, his power in a world where a splice pack animal was otherwise powerless.

 

Maybe they’d even execute him.

 

His stomach cramped painfully as a bout of nausea threatened to overwhelm him, but he swallowed it down. He hadn’t been alone in a long time, hadn’t realized how good it felt to be with the Skyjumpers, not until it was painfully evident he’d done something wrong. Was it nerves making him physically ill, or was it something in his genes? His breeding telling his body he was a pack animal, and unable to survive on his own?

 

The door swooshed open to reveal Stinger Apini, flanked by two guards. Each guard held their shield, along with a stun baton. All three of them kept a considerable distance from where Caine cowered on the floor. Their gazes fell on him, cautious and observant. He felt his skin crawl, the fight in him completely gone. They looked at him like one might gaze upon a wild animal, dangerous, unpredictable, and less than human. Even the man whom he called Commander.

 

“Stinger,” he rasped.

 

He saw the other man’s shoulders drop, and a look of relief cross his face. He motioned to the guards, a small at ease sign with his hands. They lowered their shields. But just slightly.

 

“Caine. Do you...remember what happened?” Stinger’s voice was soft, treading carefully like he was walking on ice.

 

“Please, Stinger take this off,” Caine said, his voice muffled by the mask. “Please.”

 

Stinger kneeled in front of him, closing the space slightly. He shook his head, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry Caine, I can’t.”

 

Caine stopped himself from making an inhuman whine of frustration, as he dropped his forehead to the floor.

 

“Do you remember what happened?” Stinger repeated.

 

Caine looked up at him, his brow knit in confusion and fear.He shook his head.

 

Stinger sighed, running a hand through his hair and looking away. “You bit someone, Caine.”

 

Caine felt his blood turn to ice at the affirmation of what he already suspected.

 

“An Entitled,” growled one of the guards. Caine flinched back against the wall making himself smaller even as Stinger turned a pissed off glare on his behalf towards the guards.

 

“Please wait outside,” Stinger said lowly. They hesitated before they both nodded and left the cell.

 

“I don’t remember,” Caine whispered not looking up. En Entitled? No wonder they were looking at him like he was something less than human. He was a dog that had jumped at the leash, bit the hand that fed him. He was surprised he hadn’t been put down.

 

“They’re going to court martial you,” Stinger said. “Is there anything you can say in your defense?”

 

Caine shook his head guilt and shame tearing at him. He’d failed his commander, lost control. He deserved whatever they gave him.

 

“I may have something, but it’s a longshot. We measured chemicals in the air after the attack. It was very faint. But it was similar to something we know a few royal families are developing. Something that makes splices lose control of some of their more basic human functions.”

 

Caine did look up at him then. “Then why did it affect just me?”

 

Stinger shook his head. They were far from the only splices in Aegis. In fact, about half the force was made up of hybrids. “We’re not sure. It could have been anything from it was only made to affect your species, to maybe your breeder didn’t develop your human genes enough. We just don’t know.”

 

Caine looked away again. Even among other splices he was an anomaly, an accident. A mutation gone wrong.

 

He felt Stinger’s warm hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to defend you. What happened was beyond your control. It would be no different from someone who was brainwashed, or killed with friendly fire.”

 

The mask’s restraints suddenly felt like they were tightening around his head. He remembered seeing other splices restrained in such ways, half feral with madness and looked upon with scorn by the human population.

 

It simply wasn’t true, what Stinger had said, and they both knew it.

 

He felt Stinger’s eyes rove over his body, and saw his diaphanous wings give a twitch when he reached Caine’s own wings, bound and still.

  
“They’re going to take them,” he whispered. It wasn’t a question. Stinger’s eyes softened and he gave Caine’s shoulder a squeeze.

 

“Try to get some rest. Your trial starts tomorrow.” He stood, his own wings shuddering again as if to shake off the negative associations of the cell. The door swooshed shut, and Caine was alone once again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When they came for him in the morning, Caine hadn’t slept at all. He had hardly moved from the corner. He didn’t resist as the guards pulled him up by his arms, his stiff and sore body following.

 

He heard a heavy sigh and slowly pulled his head up to see Stinger in the doorway.

 

“You can take that off of him now.” He nodded towards Caine’s face.

 

“But Sir, our orders…” one of that guards protested.

 

Stinger’s eyes flashed, and Caine caught a glimpse of gold. “He’ll be allowed to speak, unhindered. Now, take it off.”

 

The guard hesitated, but then reached behind Caine’s head and unbuckled the straps. Caine took a deep breath when the mask left his face, feeling a little bit calmer than he had when this whole ordeal had started. He licked his lips nervously as they led him out of the cell.

 

He was led to the bridge of the Skyjumper’s ship. A good amount of the crew was in attendance. Men and women, both splices and human. All with wings which ruffled, flapped or buzzed in anticipation. Caine had never felt more silenced than in that moment, in that room full of expression while his own wings were silenced.

 

The main screen on the bridge lit up and his escort maneuvered him in front of it. On the screen, a Legion General sat down in a high-backed chair. She glanced up at the screen, looking him over silently, then back down to a stack of papers in her hand.

 

He stood in front of the screen, silence radiating on the bridge around him. The same bridge where he’d laughed with other Skyjumpers about ridiculous phrases in the manual, the same bridge where he saw planets bursting with life, and ships rocketing to destinations. The bridge that had once been a home, now an eerie ghost of its former self, heavy with judgement.

 

Caine looked at the floor.

 

“Caine Wise, you have been accused of attacking an Entitled, and by breaking the code of conduct the Legion expects of genetically enhanced soldiers.”

 

Translation: The feral splice broke taboo.

 

“Multiple witnesses attest to this, but as this is the only negative stain on an otherwise pristine record, you may have a chance to defend yourself.” She looked up from her papers calmly, waiting. “What do you have to say in your defense?”

 

Caine silently shook his head. He heard nervous shifting from among some of the other splices on the bridge.

 

“I will say something in his defense,” Stinger said, stepping forward.

 

Whispers broke out on the bridge, and the General looked at someone off to the side of the screen, then back to them. “Commander Stinger, I have not asked for your testimony at this time.”

 

“Too bad, I’m going to give it.” Stinger moved beside Caine, crossing his arms over his chest. “We have evidence the factors contributing to...the incident, were environmental. I believe you have our report?” He nodded towards the papers in our hand.

 

“I do.”

 

“Then I ask you to consider it when you render judgement. The whole incident was an unfortunate accident and the Skyjumpers deeply regret that someone of such standing was hurt.” Caine saw a few bemused smirks break out. There wasn’t much love between the Royal Families and the Legion. Stinger continued. “But. Caine Wise was under my command, and as such, I take full responsibility for his actions.”

 

Caine’s head snapped up, and he stared dumbfounded at Stinger.

 

“I assume you realize that means you are also admitting to a shared punishment,” the General said.

 

Stinger moved his feet apart and moved his hands behind his waist. “I do,” he said slowly. “But I will not stand by and let my man take the fall for something that was completely out of his control. As Commander, it’s my fault for not noticing the threat sooner.”

 

Caine lunged forward but was held in place by the guards. “No, Stinger, you can’t!” the desperate cry left his lips, seemingly even more inconsequential in the shocked silence of the Bridge.

 

The Generals looked at each other. “Very well,” the oldest one said slowly. “As you have proven yourself Commander, we will show leniency. Both you and Caine Wise will be expelled from Legion, and as such, the Skyjumpers. You will lose your wings, but you may keep your lives.”

 

“NO! STINGER, NO!” But they were already leading Stinger away calmly, while the guards pulled Caine in the other direction. He rounded on one guard, snarling, and she took a step back in alarm.  The movement quickly sobered him, and he let his face fall in shame again, submissive as they led him away.

 

They brought him to the medical bay and led him to the room that was observed strictly for wing injuries and repairs. Computers and charts lined the room, giving Caine a glimpse on one of the scans of the bundle of artificial nerves that had to be grown at the edge of the shoulder blades. Everyone’s wings were made to do the heavy lifting without attaching muscle, but they still needed to be attached to a brain.

 

“Lie down,” one of the guards said.

 

Caine, arms still bound behind him, awkwardly shuffled on one knee onto the table and lowered himself down onto his chest. He took a deep breath through his nose, inhaling the sharp tang of antiseptic and metal.The guards reached behind him and undid his bindings. They snapped smaller bindings onto his wrists, and he felt matching ones go around his ankles. He began to float upwards, unable to move.

 

A man in a surgical mask came in, snapping gloves over his hands. He didn’t have wings. As soon as he appeared, the guards skittered out of the room.

 

“I’m sorry, young man,” the doctor said, reaching for a sharp-looking mechanical saw. “But I think you know how this goes.”

 

Caine swallowed. The memory of doctors tearing his back open, inserting the growths that would expand to connect with the rest of his nervous system, and anchoring the wing stems into his shoulders without bolts. It was all done without any sort of numbing property, so the doctors should be able to tell immediately if something wasn’t connecting or if they’d hit one of the original nerve endings.

 

It was the worst pain Caine had ever experienced.

 

Caine steeled himself as he heard the saw turn on and felt the first cut open his back.

 

His throat was soon raw from screaming.

 

Hours later, he was back in his cell. His skin was completely healed, and there was no pain. Only two raised circles showed what he knew to be missing.

 

He wrapped his arms around his knees, and couldn’t stop shaking.

 

 


End file.
